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Posts tagged ‘values’

The Octonauts and Sex Ed

Talking to our kids about sex has come up a bit lately. Any of my friends will tell you I’m a bit of a prude when it comes to discussing this kind of stuff. I have never had the kind of frank chats over coffee that were championed in Sex and the City.Β I’ve been into a sex- shop a grand total of once and I wanted to wear a disguise while I was there. I certainly didn’t make eye contact with anyone for the duration.

Now that it’s started to come up and I’ve been thinking about it, I think I know what I need to do. I need to answer the questions they ask. I need to get comfortable talking to them about the entire act, in an age appropriate manner. I need to talk to them about consent. I need to talk to them about respect. About what it feels like to be rejected. About what it feels like to be consumed by your desire. These all feel like Really Big Things to talk about and for a while I was stymied by how to begin talking with them about the Really Big Things without completely freaking them out.

And then I remembered Octonauts. For those of you who are (blissfully) unaware of Octonauts, it’s a cartoon on Netflix about 8 different “critters” who live in a submarine and use each of their different skills sets to stage rescues of other underwater creatures who are in danger. There’s no sex involved. What there is involved is a complete lack of consent. The Octonauts (led by a well-bred-accented-male-polar-bear, of course) never once, in all the one million and thirty two episodes,Β ask the creature they’re rescuing how they feel about the situation. They never say “I see you’re in a spot of bother, we could help you out if you’d like, this is our team, and this is what we think might help. With your permission, we’ll get started right away.” They just march on in and take over.

This irked me. It irked me for a while before I said anything. And then I casually mentioned this to my kids in the middle of an episode they were watching. At first they looked at me with blank faces. And then, with further discussion, they kind of shrugged and nodded and gave me a look that said “okaaaaaay Mama” and went back to watching. Every now and then in the ensuing months I yelled out in the middle of an episode “Did they ask the [narwhal] if it needed rescuing???!!!”

Once I remembered this, I remembered all the other times that I calmly and not-so-calmly demand that one or the other of my children listen to the other play-mate’s cries to stop. If I see something that makes me uncomfortable I ask them to pause, and I check in with both of them to see if they’re OK with what’s happening. Often one of them isn’t and we negotiate a different way of playing. If they’re upset I let them talk about how and why they’re upset. If they don’t want to wear shoes they don’t have to. If they want to shave off their hair they do it.

If I’m giving you the impression that we have this totally nailed, I need to just mention that they’re still kids, who get lost in the moment, who get tired, and frustrated, and lose their minds in anger. There are still those moments, which I think are pretty normal, that require a calming down period, a chat, a re-establishing of values and a reminder of respect and bodily autonomy and a gentle suggestion that the other person might appreciate hearing if they’re sorry.

I am realising that I am teaching them about consent in everyday life, have been from the day they were born. Thank goodness.

And thanks Octonauts.

How do we afford it?

We’ve had a disappointing week.

Part of our home education vision has always been to have a bit of land where the kids can build tree huts, have bon fires with their friends, learn about raising pets and growing vegetables, run around to their hearts’ content.

We have a rather long list of what we want in a property. One of the things is it needs to be close to the beach. Especially now that Louis is surfing, but even before that, one of our favourite things to do is pack a picnic and head to the beach for the day. In Hawke’s Bay, property near the beach is difficult to come by on our budget unless you head north to Wairoa or south to Pourere. Another thing on our list is that it needs to be within an hour of the airport for Ron’s commute. That puts Wairoa and Pourere out of the equation.

We are lucky enough to have bought a house eight years ago in an area of Napier that is seeing ridiculous growth in sales prices. We often have real estate agents knocking on our door asking if we’re in the market to sell. We climbed onto a false assumption that on the basis of that we might be able to afford our lifestyle block.

And we found one that fit nearly all our criteria. And we got excited. And we did all our due diligence and got to the point where we were going to put in an offer, only to get told by our mortgage broker that we couldn’t service the loan. What that means in everyday language is that we can’t afford to make the repayments on a week-to-week basis. According to the bank’s calculations.

This was a short, sharp drop back down to the reality of our financial situation. The one that we find ourselves in largely because we home-educate, which means we’re on one income, which means we’re limited to what Ron can earn.

We drive a 1992 Honda CRV with paint peeling off and a boot door that only shuts sometimes. I buy most of my clothes from op-shops. I buy most of the kids’ clothes off trade me. If you see them and they look tidy, they’ll be wearing clothes my mum or sister bought them. We spend a shit-load of money on food. And health; choosing alternative health practises, like osteopathy and homeopathy and acupuncture is freaking expensive.

We borrowed a crazy amount of money to buy the camper van. We worked in a frenzy to get the house ready to go on AirBnB so that that would pay for the loan. That paid off. But we’ll need to do it every summer to keep that up.

Sometimes it seems like the easiest thing would be to put the kids in school and go and get a job. But, then I remind myself that money is just one aspect of our lives. Healthy, well adjusted, thriving children far outweigh that. Children who are independent thinkers, who have a strong sense of who they are and where they fit in the world, are more important than what car we drive. A family that has fun together, and spontaneous days at the beach, and glorious mornings in the sunshine learning to ride bikes, is more important that me being at work and picking them up from school with extra cash in the bank.

For us.

This is how we afford it, by pivoting back to what matters whenever we get the money-wobbles.

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